The Flirting Dragon Slayer
by friendlyneighborhoodfairy
Summary: [Nonbinary Month #10] Nonbinary Rogue gets flirty af with Sting. Blame the trousers. {Genderfluid Stingue with Yukinerva and Orfus.}


**A/N:** Fairy Tail + genderfluid.

Comes between oneshots **_Sometimes_ **and **_Old Times_ **from 2017. (Except Rogue is afab and uses they/them, because I felt like it.)

For dreamingoffairies, who encouraged me in the flirty enbie Stingue department. ^^

* * *

 **The Flirting Dragon Slayer**

Sting was wearing Rogue's trousers.

Rogue was consternated. Sting looked _good_ in them. His ass was…well, Sting's ass. Goddamn him.

"Oi, Yukino," Sting called over, sauntering across the guild—damn him times a thousand, he fucking sauntered. "What was the name of that town you went to? The one? You know? Last month?"

As the guildmaster crossed the hall, he scratched his head with the end of his pen, staring down with adorable bemusement at the paper he held. He was sinfully cute.

"Shirotsume?" Yukino asked.

"No…"

"Margaret Town?"

"No."

"Balsam Village?" she tried desperately.

"Not clover, daisies, or balsam," Sting said in frustration. "It was a white flower."

Yukino gaped at him. Rogue did too: they didn't know Sting knew anything about flora.

Come to think of it…

"Those are _all_ white flowers, Sting," Rogue said.

"Seriously. Those are some of the whitest flowers," Minerva piped up, coming over as the radius of Sting's aggravation grew.

"Um," Yukino cut in quickly. "Was it…Freesia?"

"Freesia! Yes!" Sting ran a hand over his head, pen leaving a black line across his forehead.

"Freesias aren't white," Minerva said.

Sting wilted. "They…aren't?"

"Sometimes they are," Yukino said. She turned on Minerva in an unusual show of rebellion, chest out. "Are you sure _you_ know about flowers?"

"I—what?" Minerva sputtered, taking a step back.

Yukino advanced into her space.

"Don't order people around if you don't even know what you're talking about. It makes you look mean."

Rogue was fascinated: Yukino didn't get like this with anyone.

"Hey, hey now," Rufus said, sliding between them with a desperate smile. "That's not—you don't mean that. Yukino. D-Do you?"

For a moment, it seemed Yukino might retort, but then her face softened. "No. I'm sorry, Rufus."

He deflated, but Rogue was watching Minerva's face: Yukino hadn't apologized to _her._

Minerva still looked startled off her pedestal. Insecure. And almost a little…scared? She was staring off to the side of Yukino's feet.

"In point of fact," Rufus continued, settling into his normal attitude with hands clasped behind his back, "Freesias come in white, yellow, all the way through red, pink, purple. They are said to have a cool, pleasant aroma…"

"Freesia," Sting was muttering, not paying the slightest attention to the other three's discussion. He marked something on the paper. "Good. That one's done. I want to try a Freesia. See how it tastes."

"They're edible?" asked Orga, who was seated down the bench from Rogue.

"What?" Sting looked around. "I don't know. I want to find out."

"A _flower?_ "

"It's white," Sting said obviously.

"Flowers can be edible," Yukino and Rufus interjected.

Orga looked up. "They can?"

"Anything is edible if you have the right stomach," Minerva said.

"Okay, but, like, for normal people," Orga said, stretching and approaching the group.

"Of course. Take geraniums. A nice sharp flavor," Rufus said, turning his body fully toward Orga. "Most of what we eat is plant matter."

"Most of what _you_ eat," Orga said.

"Yes," Minerva snickered while Rufus looked flustered. "Our little vegetarian."

"There's nothing wrong with being a vegetarian," Yukino told her.

Her voice was calmer now, but the hard edge remained. That hint of something, like a warning.

"You should try some of what I eat," Rufus told Orga austerely. "You might like it."

"I might," Orga agreed.

Rufus looked surprised. "You think so? I cook—I mean, well. I cook. I c-could make you something…"

Next to the pair (Orga smiling genuinely while Rufus flushed), the two women had broken out into a gently vicious argument—

"…meat protein is something your body _needs,_ " Minerva insisted—

—which, Rogue sensed, had nothing to do with diets at all.

Still quietly sitting on their bench, they looked over at Sting. Their boyfriend was glaring at a new piece of paper now, biting his lip and looking very hot.

Damn those trousers.

"I wonder if someone could pick me up a few flowers next time they're in that area?" Sting asked, finally looking around.

He gaped.

Rufus and Orga, now standing closer together, had attempted to break up the small-scale war of deadly smiles passing between Yukino and Minerva, and when the women turned on them, the pair backed each other up in sweet defensiveness.

"When did they get so heated?" Sting asked.

It took Rogue a moment to realize the question was directed at them.

"Weeks ago," they said. "It's been warming up for months."

Sting blinked. "Huh?"

Rogue's mouth was dry. The world was a fair and wonderful place if Sting could look like that. His thighs. Fuck.

"Let's go to your office," they said, grabbing Sting's hand and pulling him toward the door.

"Why?" Sting pouted in bewilderment. "I'm supposed to be the master, and I don't know what's happening most of the time."

"Are you kidding me? The master isn't supposed to know. Masters exist so mages have someone to hide mischief from."

They pushed Sting in and closed the door to a crack, taking one last peek: Orga and Rufus had extracted themselves and were looking immensely happy, chatting about food while heading in the direction of the kitchen. Minerva and Yukino were back at it.

"Why are they fighting?" Sting asked.

Rogue jumped. Sting was right behind them peering over their shoulder.

"Gods, Sting, don't do that to me. Get back inside." They shut the door. "You're being a dumb blonde today."

"Me?" He gave them a hurt look.

"They like each other, Sting."

"Who?" His confusion dawned into shock. "No. Not them two."

"Yes, them two. Yukino is pissed Minerva hasn't done reciprocal."

"How do you know?"

"Because I watch people, Sting. That's basically all I do. I've seen several shocking things today, and those two fighting is not one of them. Yukino has made her interest abundantly clear, and sometimes Minerva acts interested too, but every time it seems they might be close to _something,_ Minerva goes over all cold and stops talking to her. Why do you think Yukino's been on so many missions lately?"

"Ohhh. I had wondered about that."

Rogue rolled their eyes.

"What other shocking things did you see?" Sting asked.

"Orga and Rufus."

"Really?" Sting looked unsure, and Rogue was about ready to whack him over the head, but Sting said, "I'm not sure that should come as a shock. That's been…since _The_ Games. Since Jiemma. Basically since they joined."

Just like us, Rogue thought, fondness creeping into their expression.

"I didn't think they'd get to it so soon," they explained. "I kind of thought they were the slow-burn types."

"Uh," Sting snorted, "does this not count as a slow burn?"

"I mean the burn that's so slow you can't even see the flame until the wick is gone. One day we'd just all realize they were together, and that would be that. But Rufus was actually flirting today. And so was Orga."

"In his own way," Sting laughed.

"Look who's talking," Rogue said, smile tipping up the edge of their mouth.

"Hey," Sting protested, but he was grinning. "Okay. So what else? Since I'm apparently an unobservant guildmaster."

Hmphing, Rogue bit their lip.

"You're…wearing my trousers."

Sting looked down. "So? And that I definitely noticed."

"So," Rogue growled, "it looks way too hot."

Sting blinked at their tone…

And then comprehension dawned, and his smile turned sly, hips twisting to nonexistent music.

"You think so?" he asked, giving Rogue that lazy smile he was so good at and backing up to the desk. Propping on one arm, he extended his legs, arched his back in a slow stretch, and wiped invisible dust from the _fucking front of his trousers goddamn him goddamn him…_

Rogue made a rumbling noise, eyes following his movements. With each breath, Sting's abs would tense, and Rogue asked a question which had plagued them for years: "Why do you wear cropped shirts?"

"You've never complained about it before."

"Who says I'm complaining?"

"Ah." Sting's lazy smile returned, a little pointier now. Rogue wanted those fangs. On them. Very specific parts of them. "It's comfortable. Leaves me freer to move."

"And the ladies love it."

"And the ladies love it, yes."

"But you aren't dating any ladies, Sting."

"I'm not dating any gents, either."

Rogue took a step closer. "You're dating me."

Sting's eyes gleamed. "Yep."

"And do you know what I think?" Another step brought them into his personal space. With Sting perched against the desk, they were taller, staring down at him from rather closer than necessary as they leaned in.

"That I look good in your trousers?" Sting guessed, voice getting quavery as he looked at their lips.

"You'd look even better with me in your trousers."

"Ah. Yes…" Sting trailed off as Rogue gently bit the line of his jaw, his moan a quiet thing which filled the office. They met his eyes again before they kissed his ear, taking time to nibble the edge and suck on the lobe.

"Oh gods," Sting whispered, finally in a state which Rogue felt mirrored their own. That damn sexy muscled ass.

"Can't let you stay in these," they said, hearing the gravel of desire in their voice. They touched the front of the trousers, not quite over the bulging place where Sting wanted them to touch.

"Wh-Why not?" Sting asked. His hips thrust up as they popped the button.

"They're mine. Get your own." They hooked their thumbs in the waist of his briefs and scratched at his skin.

"Oh—gods—fuck. Just…aahh…"

"You already can't talk?" Rogue panted in his ear.

"If you," Sting said with difficulty, "take my trousers h-here at the guild, what am I supposed to wear?"

They inhaled his skin, the rich human tones and subtle draconic ones that were so _him._ Sting tipped his head back as they pressed their mouth to his throat, sucking slowly down and feeling his frantic pulse against their lips.

"Nothing," they said. "Don't wear any trousers at all."

"Hahhh…if you say so…" Sting gasped, gave up on language, and simply groaned, Rogue finally hauling the trousers and briefs to his ankles.

And fuck, now they could _smell_ him, that horny scent which could get Rogue so riled. They ran their fingers over his cock and got more breathless unearthly sounds. As they pulled on him in slow strokes, they unfastened the button on their own trousers.

No sooner had they unzipped them than Sting shoved his hand into their pants. He found what he was looking for and Rogue let out a surprised cry, curling against him to muffle the sound against his chest. He was bare-chested, and they weren't sure when that had happened, but they were not complaining.

Sting's arm moved in rhythmic strokes, pressing hard and insistent. Their clit begged for attention, for more, more, more. Everything. They were so fucking wet.

"What are you wanting?" Sting asked, body thrusting against theirs.

Rogue hand had gone still on Sting's cock; they jerked on the head and Sting very nearly wailed.

"Desk," they said, hands on his hips as Sting hopped onto the edge. His chest was heaving and a red flush had crept up his neck into his cheeks.

They knelt and pulled off Sting's shoes and then the trousers, leaving the garments on the floor behind them. Every move was slow and deliberate, tantalizing him: it had the added effect of tantalizing _them_ too. By the time they ran their hands up his naked thighs, pleasure was sparking between their legs with undeniable insistence.

They'd never thought emotions could add so much to an encounter, but years with Sting—so many good years together, even when everything else was shitty—had layered on memories so that each act beckoned with the eagerness of expectation. Each breath seemed to hold the weight of all the ones before it.

They could remember leaning against this very desk while Sting kissed them passionately and silently, knowing it was terribly risky being in Jiemma's space even if it was after hours, but there was nowhere else to get privacy and they'd just told Sting their gender, and the world was made of golden joy because Sting liked them just as they were.

They could remember shortly after Sting became guildmaster, when the euphoria of their new life still hadn't worn off, and they had fucked on this desk, face to face, and afterward Sting petted his hand through their hair so tenderly and said for the first time, "I love you."

Every memory was a golden thread wrapping around them, sewing them tight to each other. Every smile that had meant something, every brush of their hands, every heartache watching the other get injured on a job, was summed up in this moment, and would be summed up again next time, and the next time, and the next.

Mouth watering, they went down on Sting's length.

They sucked back up him, their lips catching on the head, and Sting trembled, shaking so hard the desk wobbled. Picking up speed, they took him over and over, feeling the swell in their gut that was half anticipation, half satisfaction at what they could do to him. Sting's words were a litany of, "Fuck, Rogue, shit, fuck…"

They weren't even listening to the outside world: they'd tuned everything out, were focused solely on curling their tongue around that cock, on sucking it into their mouth and swallowing around the tip so that Sting choked and gasped.

…but there came two voices, and the voices were saying, "…in Sting's office."

"Where's Sting?"

"He and Rogue left. C'mon. It's private."

Rogue looked up from between Sting's legs, the pair trading a wide-eyed look.

They didn't have to be Dragon Slayers to hear the footsteps outside. Scrambling, Rogue grabbed the trousers and handed them over. Sting tried to get one foot in, tripped, and fell off the desk on top of them, the pair sprawling on the floor.

"Shit," Sting squeaked, still trying to get dressed despite the hopeless tangle of limbs.

Extracting themself, Rogue peeked up over the desk at the door. They expected the footsteps to stop, the owners to have heard the thump, but they came on, the handle turned, and Rogue blinked as Minerva and Yukino came into the room. The pair didn't look further into the room but peered out furtively as they closed the door, huddled around it.

Rogue glanced from them to Sting, caught in indecision: whether to announce their presence and ask the women to leave, or stay silent and not draw attention until Sting was decent. He was still attempting to round up his clothing, but he was doing it with a tiptoeing quietness now. Rogue kept silent for a moment…

They thought the decision would be made for them in the next moment: that the women would look around and see Rogue staring back. But Minerva grabbed Yukino's hands and looked at her with deep sincerity.

"I'm scared, alright?" Minerva said, seeming to continue some previous conversation. "I don't know what I'm doing and I've never dated before, I've never even _kissed_ a woman, and this is all new territory. And new, uncontrollable territory is _not_ my thing."

"I already told you, I forgive you." Yukino extracted her hand and touched Minerva's cheek, eliciting a gentle, vulnerable expression Rogue had never seen on Minerva before. There, framed in the doorway, it seemed like one of those holy moments that both women would remember forever. "I understand. It's alright."

"It isn't."

"Okay, it isn't, but I understand. And I'm telling you, it's in the past. I just want…to move forward."

"It isn't alright," Minerva insisted, drawing her hands back and looking at the floor. "I've been a total dick, and I don't know how to—"

Yukino leaned in and kissed her.

It was a long kiss, Yukino gently framing Minerva's face. Minerva seemed to sag, to surrender. Rogue saw it wasn't just Yukino's lips that were moving. With a sniff, Minerva leaned closer, ducking her head so Yukino was not on tiptoe.

"There," Yukino said, breaking apart but keeping her face very close.

Minerva stared at her, radiating anxiety.

"That's what I want," Yukino went on. "Just that. Okay? I don't need grand gestures or a particular kind of romance, or for you to know what you're doing. I just want an adventure. Together. An adventure of us."

Minerva's eyes were shining, and she gasped out something that might've been a happy sob. Yukino went to kiss her again and Minerva met her halfway, and the pair didn't pull away this time. It was long and gentle and yearning, and it made Rogue faintly jealous because they had been attempting to do such things to Sting (well, Sting's dick) when this pair had interrupted.

"Voyeur," Sting hissed at Rogue, also peering over the edge of the desk. He was now clothed, albeit not fully, but enough not to scar anyone.

"Oi," Sting spoke up.

Minerva jolted and Yukino shrieked.

"Sting!" Yukino shouted. "What the hell?"

"I might ask _you_ what the hell. We were in here first!"

"You didn't say anything!"

"You were having a moment!" Sting retorted. "And I had to get my fucking shirt back on. Gods."

The women's eyes slid between Sting and Rogue, and Rogue felt the spreading heat in their face.

"Fucking in the guild? That's hot," Minerva said.

"Shut up," Rogue said.

"We're going," Yukino said before anyone else could open their mouth. " _Goodbye._ "

And she marched out with her new girlfriend in tow. Minerva gave them a happy smile and a wink.

"Shut the door!" Sting called.

"Better lock it," Rogue muttered, still hot all over as they rose and went to the door.

When they twisted the lock with a solid click, Sting was suddenly behind them, hands running down their sides with feverish need.

"Fuck, Rogue," Sting said, letting Rogue turn around before pressing them against the wall. "I could hardly fit myself in your trousers."

"They're not meant for having a raging hard-on resulting from your datemate being interrupted sucking on you," Rogue said, glancing down and seeing that Sting hadn't even fastened them, cock making a tent of his briefs.

Sting kissed them, their head thudding against the wall as he continued his intense energy, biting his way down their neck and sucking hard enough to leave marks.

"Then what the hell is the point of pants at all?" he asked, reaching their shirt and sliding his hands over the parts of their chest that were safe, sensual.

"The point is to take them off when you have a hard-on," Rogue said. "Obviously."

"Obviously," Sting grunted, smile widening.

He tugged down Rogue's trousers and made them step out of them, then removed his own again. When he fit his body against theirs, Rogue let out a groan, feeling his smooth chest and warms abs and the promising curve of his thighs against theirs. They felt that rightness that always came with being near Sting. Their opposite. Their other half.

"Now we're back to where we were," Sting breathed, reaching and slotting his cock between their legs. When he rutted against them, Rogue couldn't contain a gasp.

"This feels…ah! A little further on than before," Rogue said.

"I'm sorry. Do you want me to go back?"

Rogue couldn't tell if Sting were serious or kidding, but they glared at him all the same. "Keep fucking going, Sting."

"Oo," Sting's eyes glittered with excitement, "a command."

"You've been strutting your equipment all day. Time to use it, please."

"Oh _gods,_ I can do that."

The pressure increased as Sting held the base of his cock and aimed across the desired spot. Rogue dissolved, like an ice cube turning liquid on the stove, steaming in huffs and desperate pleas for more. At one point, Sting pulled out and used his hand instead, thrusting and giving them all the desired pressure for many long minutes. Their pleasure knotted in their belly as it rose and fell with their blood.

Finally it banked steeply up and they came, shuddering into his palm and grabbing his wrist to hold him where they wanted him.

When they'd finished gasping and sagged back against the wall, Sting grabbed his cock and jerked in quick, familiar strokes, mouth falling open and expression transforming. It only took a minute and then he came too, dripping over his hand and down their thigh.

"Fuck," Rogue groaned, rutting their hips forward until his limp dick feathered over their growing pleasure. "I want to go again."

"My hand can't handle… However," Sting pressed in and slotted his leg between theirs. He gave them a brilliant smile. "How's this?"

"Yes," Rogue hissed, grating against that muscled thigh. "Yesss, fuck… No more trousers for you today…"

* * *

 **A/N:** I just meant for it to be flirting but then it turned sexy and then it just kept going and going… Of my regrets in life, this is not one. ^_^


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